


Parenting, Science Style

by Dragonslovespace



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Baby Dib, Baby Gaz, Cute, Family Fluff, If you can see where this is going, i'm SOFT, it's nothing but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-24 14:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20359909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonslovespace/pseuds/Dragonslovespace
Summary: It’s been hard, caring for two infants, running a business and trying to get sleep in between projects. Nanny Bots can only do so much, after all.





	Parenting, Science Style

**Author's Note:**

> The reason he's raising this set of clones is because he hasn't quite perfected the cloning process, plus, early memories are crucial in any biological clone, it's strictly for science purposes. Mm Hm. Yep.
> 
> I did this in less than 24 hours, so please forgive any errors or jaggedness in the storytelling.
> 
> Based on an idea from averyhappychappy on Tumblr! Go check her out, she's got some p good ideas.

It’s been hard, caring for two infants, running a business and trying to get sleep in between projects. Nanny Bots can only do so much, after all, in addition, this stage of childhood is crucial for emotional well being and development. 

Correction, all stages of childhood are crucial for emotional development, it is crucial at this moment to set foundations for future growth.

It’s late, and drowsiness has set in after returning from a quick meeting at the labs where Dib and Gazlene were blissfully asleep the entire time. We all got home promptly at 6pm, where their respective food and bathing needs were met, and going down at the usual time without a hitch, I then retreated to my personal lab, and that position has not changed since then.

I tap my pencil against the lab desk involuntarily, losing myself in thought. The latest projects outlines and sketches are strewn about the desk. Neat sticky notes adorn the edges of a whiteboard I’m staring into, highlighting changes and moments of inspiration quickly scribbled down in the margins. Careful equations about earth’s gravity, pollution levels, and the likelihood of efficient hovering cars swim across my vision. My eyes glaze over, and begin to slowly shut against my better judgement.

A cry pierces the haze I had fallen in. It’s Gaz’s cry this time, I realize without glancing at the baby monitors, hers are always louder than her brothers, Dib’s are usually quiet whimpers unless he’s particularly stressed. Rubbing my hand down my face I picture myself wiping away the tiredness, then stand with more effort than usually needed. I wave off the oncoming Nanny Bot, activated when a baby’s cry was heard.

Their nursery was built in an extra room off of the main lab, a cozy area with plenty of soft toys, ventilation, nightlights, which was unneeded given the large reinforced windows allowing plenty of light from the moon. Mostly it was built there because it was reassuring to have them close, regardless of what advanced security may do.

Plus it beat climbing all those stairs balancing children and other supplies, it was just the logical choice.

Peaking in I could see everything thanks to the light of a full moon, Gaz was standing in her crib, supporting herself with the slats, tears in her eyes and her face screwed up in agitation. Reassured there was no threat I proceed through the room, carefully stepping over play things strewn about from stimulating their senses throughout the day, mumbling something about organizing it later. 

Finally arriving at her crib I reached in whispering comforting nonsense and settled her to my chest I began a light bouncing, still murmuring in her ear, I prayed to someone that this wouldn’t wake up her brother too, he was so much harder to put down once he wakes up. Her cries began to quiet down to sniffles and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Double checking a sleeping Dib I stole a glance at the appropriately rocket themed clock, the time let me know this wasn’t a hunger cry, more of check-diaper and need-emotional-reassurance cry. Shuffling over to the changing table, I tried, and failed to set her on the table, ah, she had a tight grip on the shirt I was wearing underneath my coat. Wincing, because that shirt is definitely sweaty after laboring all day on machines, I scolded myself about leaving my coat open recklessly like that, and worked to gently pry her hands off. Now setting about changing an unlikely dirty diaper.

Rolling up imaginary sleeves (my sleeves were already rolled of course, but it makes them both giggle when I do, so the action is done through muscle memory) I set about my task, finishing it quickly and efficiently, with no reaction from Gaz other than a squishy hand being shoved into a gummy mouth, her eyes were already drooping. A light chuckle came from me at the sight of an already tired baby. It felt good to have some kind of routine.

Reaching into the drawers below the changing station, I pulled one of her favorite onesies out, a worn soft purple one, with an adorable bunny design on the front. This was bought on a whim, but quickly became something she recognized and enjoyed, and it helped her fall asleep sometimes, I pulled it over her head, carefully pulling her hand away from her face to pull it into the sleeve and button the bottom, then proceeded to button my own coat, which was surprisingly spotless at the end of the day.

Situated in her onesie, I scooped her into my arms, carefully situating her into her favorite place above my heart. I moved to place her back in her crib but something stopped me, and I paused to observe the current situation. It’s the current moment, something about it could almost be documented, but that didn’t feel like it either. Ah, it must be the feeling, I looked down at my daughter, MY daughter, all my own, and smiled.

Moments like this were really worth it, I realized as I cradled Gaz’s head to my shoulder, peaceful at last, drifting to sleep, the moon highlighting tiny baby curls that framed her face. The long hours at work, bringing it home, the ear splitting screaming when a simple fart upset them. I looked at her again, to admire how her tiny fist was clenched in my coat, already so strong, a fighting spirit indeed, and yet, how relaxed she was resting in hands larger than her entire body. 

Gently swaying I felt a kind of feeling welling up from the center of my chest, pushing away the stress that lined my muscles, filling my torso with warmth and adoration. I felt my face soften for the tiny body I held in my arms, one that trusts something larger than her to bring comfort, reassurance, and love.  
Yes, I thought, this definitely made it worth it in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Babies aren't chores, I did my best to portray a tired Membrane, but one that doesn't regret taking the long route. Also I'm not an expert on babies, or Membrane's character, most of this is based on my personal experience and resources I've consumed (which is hard when most of the resources on Membrane is horny now). Thank you for giving this a read!
> 
> P.S. Don't worry about explosions or other particularly dangerous experiments hurting the babies, there's another section of the lab that's been reinforced to protect them, and people walking by on occasion.


End file.
